Quaffles and Hoops
by LittleTee
Summary: Collection of various oneshots written for QLFC, season 5, for Pride of Portree. Now showing, "Curiosity Killed Our Friendship." How one's curiosity over finding a familiar resulted in the end of a friendship. One-sided Newt/Leta. Christmas.
1. Poetry in Motion

**Author's Note 1:** _Written for Round 7 of the QLFC_

 **Team** : Pride of Portree

 **Position** : Chaser 2

 **Chaser 2:** Write about a witch or wizard trying to figure out how (one or more) Muggle technology works in an experimental space, i.e. a lab of any kind, and the chaos that ensues.

 **Prompts Used:** _5\. (phrase)_ Change the light bulb _, 14. (word)_ Cartoons and _15\. (dialogue)_ "What do you mean, these pictures don't move?"

 **Word Count** _ **(excluding Author's Note):**_ 3,000

* * *

 **Poetry in Motion**

Eileen frowned as she took in the enormous and very odd looking Muggle machinery before her. True, she had seen it once before but that had not prepared her for this— _whatever_ this was supposed to be. Tobias had explained, in great detail, how this aircraft of his—an autogyro—was not just a hybrid between an aeroplane and a whirlybird but something that the aerospace industry would one day allow for personal flights manned by the common Muggle.

Eileen doubted that his assurance of it becoming a commuters' plane was correct. The appearance of the craft was even more peculiar now than it had been when it had crashed into Hagrid's poor hut months ago.

* * *

" _How's yer family Eileen?" Hagrid asked as he tried to skip a stone across the peaceful surface of the Black Lake. "Yeh haven't mentioned them at all during tea."_

 _Eileen forced her smile to stay in place. "They are doing fine."_

 _She relaxed her forced smile into a natural one as she accepted the offered stones for skipping. Hagrid was her longtime friend and_ _former_ _school_ _mate_ _._

" _Father is still on the_ _Governor's_ _' Board_ _;_ _M_ _other is… still herself, and Elizabeth… well, you know Elizabeth. She is still traversing the States on her post-Hogwarts sabbatical_ _,_ _"_ _s_ _he explained as she_ _looked through_ _the stones weighing down her hand_ _._

" _And how about you?"_

 _Eileen sent a polished stone skipping across the tranquil lake._ _"Hmm?"_ _She_ _hummed._

" _What are you planning on—_ _"_

 _A loud noise prevented_ _him from finishing_ _his question._ _B_ _oth of them froze and turned back_ _to see_ _some type of aircraft was failing and falling fast out o_ _f the sky_ _._ _A_ _loud screech preceded the crash as it and its pilot_ _barreled_ _into_ _the modest hut Hagrid called home._ _T_ _he ground shook and heaved_ _. Eileen was unsure_ _whether it was simply from the downed autogyro alone or from Hagrid as he ran_ _towards his demolished home_ _, but it was a feeling she was sure she would never forget._

 _The Muggle_ _contraption_ _was_ _in pieces in and around the remains of Hagrid's poor hut. It was a miracle that both of them had been taking a friendly stroll by the Black Lake or_ — _she stopped herself from thinking such morbid things as she joined Hagrid by the ruins of the craft and hut. Now was not the time to think about that. She knew all too well what could have been. If the war had taught her anything, it was what happened to those buried under fall_ _en_ _bombs or planes._

 _Hagrid gave a shout as he found the form of the unconscious pilot under a section of thatch_ _ing_ _that used to be the roof._

" _I think he's alive," Hagrid muttered after_ _pulling_ _the roof_ _off_ _of the man._

" _He is," Eileen agreed,_ _welcoming_ _the sight of the unknown man's chest_ _rising_ _and_ _lowering_ _._

 _"Is the little fell_ _a_ _alright, then?" Hagrid asked as he poured water onto the rising smoke that was still wafting from the combined wreckage of homestead and plane._

 _She nodded as she continued to check the man for any potentially fatal injuries. "He's still breathing and his pulse is steady._ _L_ _ooks like his ankle might be_ _broken._ _Can you fetch Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, if she's in?"_

" _Right_ _o!_ _"_

 _Ju_ _st as_ _Eileen_ _unlaced_ _his shoes to check his injury_ _more closely,_ _the man stirred and_ _moaned softly_ _before opening his eyes._ _They_ _were a soft green and were captivating, albeit a little unfocused at the moment. Both Eileen and the man stared into each other's eyes and, for a long_ _moment,_ _neither moved_ _nor_ _said anything. It was like they had fallen under some enchantment_ _that_ _neither dared to break._

 _"_ _A_ _m I dead?" The man finally asked._

" _No, you're not dead_ _._ _" Not yet anyway_ , _she silently added before berating herself for the morbid thought. Surely, if he had survived that crash then he would live. Fate and God weren't that cruel._

" _Then why is an angel staring at me?" he_ _asked_ _,_ _trying_ _to smile before his attempt failed a_ _nd_ _his lips lapsed into a painful grimace. "What happened?" he asked before Eileen could reply to his surprise compliment as he pushed himself up to a sitting position and uttered a painful sob mixed with a humorless laugh at the sight that greeted him. "Damn_ _, that right rotary blade must have finished cracking...t_ _hose were my last three triplets too."_

 _Mistaking her for an_ angel _and now nonsensical talk about t_ _riplets and rotary blades_ _?_ _Clearly this Muggle was_ _severely concussed!_

 _"If you could help me up, Miss...?" he trailed off in clear invitation for Eileen to offer her name_ _as he surveyed her form._ Definitely not an angel. _He silently corrected his previous assessment of the sullen and frail creature before him._

 _"_ _My name is_ _Eileen Prince and the hut you smashed into over there belonged to Hagrid."_ _Eileen offered her hand which was quickly followed by her shoulder as he found that, sure enough, his ankle was busted._

 _His already light complexion paled even more. "I crashed into someone's home?"_

 _A_ _t her simple nod of_ _confirmation_ _he quickly scanned the wreckage. "Please tell me_ _it_ _was empty_ _._ _"_

 _"No_ _one was inside. We were just walking_ — _"_

 _"Thank goodness. I really didn't want to face the law."_ _H_ _e smirked, "I've found that whenever one deals with magistrates and old wigs that time for inventing and test flying is gravely_ _diminished_ _."_

 _Eileen blinked. Was that supposed to be a joke? He was leaning on her and limping in obvious pain and yet he was joking with her . . . who was this man?_

 _"Sir, you haven't given me your name."_

 _"Ah, yes my manners must still be in the clouds. The name's Tobias Snape."_

* * *

"Eileen, love, come back down."

Eileen blinked and turned to see Tobias in his work tugs roll out from the confines underneath the autogyro.

"I've been asking for a wrench for the past minute."

Eileen quickly handed him one, ashamed that she had been caught daydreaming. She missed Tobias's smirk.

"You weren't perhaps daydreaming about me, were you?"

"Of course not!" she quickly defended herself, then walked over to the open cockpit and looked in. Ignoring Tobias's repeated pleas to come back, she picked up a photograph that had been pinned to the windshield. It was a picture of them during their first date.

* * *

 _Hagrid had come to stay in the Prince guest cottage located_ _just off the main Hogsmeade estate_ _while his hut was being rebuilt_ _._ _Eileen had insisted on_ _it._ _She_ _had_ _already_ _rented a_ _small apartment in London_ _for the duration of_ _her summer internship at the Ministry of Magic. Somehow, Tobias had found out her temporary address and every other weekend would stop by, unannounced, and ask her to go out with him._

 _E_ _ven despite his slight limp, a cane-less Tobias (since he was apparently too stubborn to use one) had been busily trying to court her._ _S_ _he_ _had no idea why._ _She was no fool_ _;_ _s_ _he knew that she would never be considered beautiful, not with her sharp features and eyebrows that refused to stay_ _neat_ _no matter how much she plucked. She was also without any curves or other womanly endowments that one could boast about_ _._ _Finally, measuring in at five foot eleven didn't help matters either when it came to dating. There weren't many tall wizards or Muggles around._

Except for Tobias who's six foot three _, an annoying inner voice reminded her as she stacked the now empty tea plates upon one another and vanished them back to the kitchen with a wave of her wand._

 _A knock at her door helped_ _break_ _the almost whimsical daydream that was_ _threatening_ _to overtake her senses. A daydream that starred her fallen pilot and herself._

 _Merlin, she couldn't be falling for_ him _. She didn't have time for a silly infatuation, not with her internship, and definitely not with someone that her family would vehemently forbid her to see._

 _Then again, m_ _aybe she should take him up on one of his requests._

 _Eileen knew all too well that the cold, harsh truth of reality always vanished the warmt_ _h and perfection_ _of fantasies._

 _With a quick series of wand waves and muttered charms her Ministry-approved and Muggle London appropriate dress suit was transformed into a simple, modest evening dress. Something just right for the cinema._

 _"Hello Eileen_ _!_ _"_

 _S_ _peak of the devil himself_ — _Tobias stood in a slightly_ _-_ _too_ _-loose_ _yet not unattractive suit with a bouquet of cut flowers peeking out from where he hid it behind his back. Like always._

 _"Care to go to the cinema with me_ _?_ _I have an extra ticket..."_ _H_ _e trailed off as he saw her frown turn into a tight smile._

 _"Yes, the theater would be_ _lovely._ _"_ _S_ _he accepted the flowers and with a_ _discrete_ _wave of her wand sent them into the kitchen where they would also find a half-filled vase to gracefully fall into._

* * *

"What are you looking at?" Tobias asked as he joined her by the cockpit before seeing the small photograph. "I see that you found my good luck charm."

"Why isn't it moving?"

"Moving?" Tobias asked, unsure what Eileen was asking.

"Yes, moving. We're just standing there."

Tobias chuckled. "Of course we are. It isn't a moving picture show."

"What do you mean, these pictures don't move?"

"Pictures by themselves don't move, love."

"But I—" she stopped herself. Maybe this was another of those Muggle things that were different from their Wizarding World counterpart.

"Your parents must have had a zoetrope that you played with as a child," Tobias reasoned aloud.

"Yes, that must be it."

Taking the photograph from her, Tobias carefully put it back. "I'm going back to work. She's almost ready."

Eileen smiled as Tobias slid back under his prized autogyro. Her thoughts, however, didn't stay in the present as she remembered how their first night out had gone.

She had agreed to go out with him to rid herself of fanciful thoughts by getting to know him better and thus become disappointed when reality didn't match up with fantasy, and to stop him from constantly stopping by with flowers. In the end, it did something unexpected— it marked the start of their whirlwind romance.

Eileen ran her hand along the repaired surface of the hybrid plane as she revisited memories of sitting in the cinema, watching the cartoon shorts before the feature film while sharing popcorn and laughter with Tobias.

Now, she had seen cartoons before, having sneaked out once with her sister to the local cinema by Diagon Alley after purchasing their school supplies, but that had been years ago during the real threat of invasion by Grindelwald's Army _and_ the Muggle Germans and they hadn't made it past the newsreels and cartoons to the feature film before an air raid had ended their contraband fun.

She quietly shook herself from the bad memories of wartime and focused on the here and now.

Now she was in a rented hangar with her boyfriend, helping him with tuning up his invention. She had tried to follow his technobabble, but no matter how hard she listened and tried to picture it in her mind's eye she always got lost along the way. She knew it was not a good sign for a witch that one day desired to be Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry, but it was the truth.

"Be useful and hand me that screwdriver would you, love?"

Eileen turned from admiring the aircraft and picked up the lone screwdriver sticking out of Tobias's toolbox, "This one?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

He accepted the tool and after only a quick twist or two he threw the screwdriver back into the open toolbox before sliding out from under the body of the aircraft. Wiping his hands on an almost equally stained towel, he jumped to his feet and grinned.

"Good as new."

"You finished fixing it then?"

"Sure did and I tweaked a few things here and there while I was at it. So she's even better now. "

Just as he spoke, the lone light bulb above them flickered before going permanently dark.

"If it isn't one thing, it's another," he muttered good-naturedly as he shook his head. "I'd better change that lightbulb. Why don't you go wait in the cockpit?"

Eileen hesitated. "Tobias, I don't know if I should."

"Nonsense, it'll provide you with the opportunity to get acquainted with Little Lu."

"Little Lu?"

"That's her name," he explained as he patted the autogyro lovingly. "Now then, hop in while I fix this lighting problem. Won't be but a minute."

Eileen shrugged but got into the fixed autogyro, careful not to close the rounded glass door behind her.

A minute turned into a couple of minutes, it was apparently taking Tobias more time to find the ladder he needed to reach the dangling and burnt-out lightbulb, and she was rapidly becoming bored.

Eileen and boredom did not mix well, and even though she was uneasy about being inside Tobias's pride and joy alone, she also had a terrible desire to play with the assorted gadgets and doodads lining the modest console before her.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she assured herself that simply touching a few things while the hybrid aeroplane was powered off couldn't hurt anything. She cautiously began to explore her surroundings.

Even though four people could ride-two in the front and two behind, much like a Muggle car-the interior was rather confining. Then again, she had never actually been _in_ a Muggle car and for all she knew it could have been the same space or larger.

However, she was sure that a car didn't have the array of dials and buttons and pedals and a stirring staff, or whatever one called the lever that controlled the movement of the aircraft while airborne; that much she was certain of.

Then, Eileen found herself touching, albeit ever so lightly, the various little buttons dotted around, wondering how it would feel to fly this instead of those awful brooms that never felt right, missing the small noise that signaled the start of the rotary blades beginning to spin. It was only when she felt a sudden breeze that quickly increased that she noticed her mistake.

She quickly hit the button again hoping it would stop, but it just kept spinning.

"Oi! Eileen, what are you doing?!" Tobias shouted as he began his descent back down the ladder after replacing the lightbulb. "Don't touch anything else! I'm coming!"

Eileen pulled her hands away from the control panel, but it was too late. Tobias had apparently prematurely removed the two wooden blocks that acted as brakes to keep the wheels stationary. The autogyro slowly began moving, increasing its acceleration with each rotation of its blades.

Tobias swore as he noticed what was happening and with only a second of hesitation jumped past the remaining four rungs of the ladder and ran the best he could after the now moving and slowly turning autogyro. If he didn't get to the controls and shut it off it would run into the side of the hangar, which could possibly damage it and his meal-ticket inside.

Eileen resumed frantically mashing buttons and turning switches in hopes of stopping her unexpected motion. When she noticed that nothing seemed to be working and that the door– the very locked and closed hangar door– was coming closer and closer, she reflexively grabbed her concealed wand and waved it. "Alohomora!"

Tobias froze as, to his utter astonishment, the locked and closed hangar door opened.

"A bloody miracle," he whispered breathlessly as he watched the autogyro move onto the runway before kicking himself back into motion.

Luckily, the runway was narrow and the autogyro drove off it onto the grass, which slowed its forward momentum just enough for Tobias to grab the latch on the cockpit's door and open it, before hustling himself up and inside.

"You just had to take her out yourself didn't you?" he lightly joked after steering Little Lu back into the safety of the hangar.

"You were taking too long," she managed, as she forced her rapid heartbeat back to normal.

"Here I thought you wanted to take things nice and slow," he smirked impishly. He quickly sobered however, when Eileen didn't respond. "Are you alright, love? Nothing broken or bruised?"

She snorted. That was a novel question. She had never been asked that her entire life. "I'm fine! I'll have you know that I wasn't Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones team for nothing."

"Hogwarts? Gobstones?" Tobias asked, clearly amused. "You sure you didn't bonk that noggin of yours?"

Eileen stilled. She hadn't meant to say that. She _couldn't_ have said that.

"I must have."

Tobias studied her for a long moment before offering one of his playful smiles. "Funny thing is I'm sure I remember that name, Hogwarts, from back when I first crashed."

"Must be something to do with your plane here."

"Autogyro," he corrected with a friendly tone of voice before going around the plane and opening her door for her. "Planes are different: metallic, cold, and unyielding. While this is-"

Eileen smiled, "I know- poetry in motion."

Tobias bowed with an exuberant flourish. "Correct, my lady."

* * *

"So how's that rich bird of yours, Toby?" Alan York—bartender and Tobias's RAF buddy—asked as he placed Tobias's usual order, a neat whiskey, down in front of him. "Still swallowing your lies?"

"Still ugly as a dodo," Tobias smirked, coldly. "And she absolutely believes that I'm her knight in shining armour. I can't do anything wrong."

Alan laughed. "Some blokes have all the luck."

"Either you have it or you don't," Tobias boasted, drink in hand, as he silently thanked that giant oaf who had unknowingly let slip that Eileen was a very wealthy heiress which presented Tobias with the answer to his financial woes.

If _he_ could snag an heiress then he wouldn't have to worry about corporate contracts or how he would get new parts.

After all, if one didn't have money, one married money. It would be just like magic.

 _Fini_

* * *

 **Author's Note 2:** A big thank you to all my teammates on _Pride of Portree_ and our awesome captain, _Story Please_ , for their suggestions and beta help.

Inspired loosely by the fan work by _Alomoria_ (on DeviantART) entitled _The Diary_. I would strongly recommend it.

A quick note about Tobias Snape's and Eileen Prince's portrayal in this story:

 _This story is set in the years between the end of the Global Wizarding War (1945), World War II (1947), Eileen's Hogwarts graduation (c.1948), and the birth of their son, Severus Snape (1960). With that in mind, I argue that Tobias and Eileen are in character due to them both being younger than their first appearance in Severus's stolen memories which painted the canonical abusive, poor, and depressing family life he grew up in._

 _Here, both still have options and the bright chance of fulfilling their dreams._

 _Also, it's worth mentioning how alcoholism can be a progressive addiction for some and how abusive individuals are highly apt at disguising their true nature while in the "courtship" and "honeymoon" phases of a relationship. Although, one can see the groundwork for future abuse has been laid already-his objectification of Eileen as a "meal-ticket" instead of a woman._


	2. In The Company of Immortals

**Author's Note:** Written for Round 8 of the QLFC

 **Team** : _Pride of Portree_

 **Position** : Chaser 2

 **Chaser 2:** Write about the submitted headcanon of Nihara (Chaser 3 of the Tornadoes): Cedric did not grab the cup with Harry during the Triwizard Tournament.

 **Prompts Used:** 2\. (dialogue) "You're too old for this world.", 5. (image) Hellobaby's Running Away From Blue on dA [ hellobaby . deviantart art / Running-away-from-blue-171028854] , 12. (dialogue) "You have his eyes."

 **Word Count (excluding Author's Note):** 1,857

* * *

 **In the Company of Immortals**

"Thetis, you must come with me to the Triwizard Tournament," the highly muscular, bronze-skinned fire deity declared as he limped into the cool, dank, watery cavern that was the home to the also immortal Thetis—water nymph and mother of the late hero Achilles.

Thetis halted her movements on her loom.

"Salutations Hephaestus," she automatically replied to her guest by his Greek name. Even though it had been millennia since her beloved Greece had been conquered, she could not bring herself to use those terrible names the Romans had given them.

She accepted the purely platonic kiss he gently pressed against her cheek. His gratitude of being nursed and fostered under Thetis and her family after his fall from Olympus was ever present and had cemented their unlikely friendship—that of a sea nymph and the god of fire. "What is this news you bring of a Triwizard Tournament? The Britons have not indulged in such asport for centuries."

"True, but they've decided to revive it in the hopes of quieting some unrest."

"Unrest?"

"Some nonsense involving that zealous, ambitious mortal wizard that desires immortality. His followers have begun to resurface. You know them; they made an awful scene at the last Quidditch Cup, remember?"

Thetis hummed. She knew of whom he spoke—Voldemort and his so-called knights.

"You speak of the Heir of Slytherin, the last known descendant of those men formed from the teeth of the cursed serpent Cadmus slew in Ares'—"

"Yes, Voldemort," Hephaestus interrupted, forcing his own anger down—a hard task to keep whenever he heard the name of that wife-stealing brute, Ares (or _Mars_ , as that bastard _preferred_ to call himself).

Thetis gently touched her surrogate brother's arm tenderly.

"Best not to dwell on sorrowful pasts." Her lips quirked upward in response to Hephaestus' silent query. "Instead, embrace the day. At least that is what you have always claimed, dear friend."

"Aye." He beamed and took her hand. "Let us take my chariot to Hogwarts. No mortal will see us and we can hover above the stands as we watch the tasks."

She pulled her hand out of his warm grasp. "You go. I have my weaving to attend to."

"You have been weaving for millennia. You haven't left this damnable cave since I took you to the first revival of the Games."

Thetis dismissively waved the comment away. "Only a few decades."

Hephaestus' eyes blazed. "Decades? Almost a hundred years have passed, my secluded nymph. A hundred years in which I've been busy overseeing mechanical, smithing, and musical progress in the mortal realm. Not to mention fighting with Ares about his never-ending bloodlust for war and his propensity to drag _MY_ technology _into_ his wars."

The subtle straightening of Thetis' shoulders as an intense regal air cloaked the eternal nymph warned him of Thetis' anger and successfully doused Hephaestus' building ire.

The two immortals silently stood for several minutes—allowing both to cool their tempers.

"I will go," Thetis finally declared in way of an unspoken apology.

Hephaestus gladly accepted it.

* * *

Thetis sighed as she watched the preliminary opening of the first task from the hidden safety of Hephaestus's flying charlot that hovered silently above the stands of noisy bystanders.

Her forlorn sister Galatea's damning words, those that she had uttered when the Roman Empire crumbled, came rushing back to Thetis as the white-haired, long-beaded wizard rattled on. "We are cursed, Thetis. We will always _be_ while these mortals continuously beget offspring and die. I'm—you're— _we're_ —too old for this world."

Those haunting words only confirmed her rising unease. This was not her ideal form of entertainment—it never had been—to watch mortals participate in dangerous tasks for fleeting recognition and acclaim. At least the Britons had finally deemed it unwise for _children_ to participate in the tournament.

"My Brother—" Thetis began as four—not three—mortal teenagers were announced.

"I have eyes and ears." Hephaestus interrupted, understanding Thetis' obvious question. "I don't know why there are four young mages." He frowned. "Perhaps the Britons have expanded their Triwizard games to include four international schools of magic."

"Perhaps," Thetis murmured as she surveyed the emerging youths. It was good to see that there was a witch among the three wizards (She could count the past female Triwizard Champions on one hand!), but even that did not move her to cheer on the blonde contender.

The first of the four youths to attempt the first task was Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts' Champion.

When she finally saw this Cedric, she gasped. He strongly resembled her beloved Achilles.

It couldn't be—Achilles's line had fallen—but those eyes—

Thetis leaned over the chariot's side and quickly cast a magnification spell on the young mage.

She couldn't explain it, but she was positive that this Cedric Diggory was _her_ long-lost descendant.

Her full attention was on him as he transfigured a rock into a dog. A dog that immediately attacked the fierce Swedish Short-snout, a successful distraction, while its creator snatched the golden egg. Her heart cried-out and her hands itched to give aid as the dragon burned Cedric's face. Where was her magic loom and thread when she needed them?

Thetis fervently cheered along with the roaring crowd as Cedric heroically finished the task—dispute his burns.

"That's the spirit!" boomed Hephaestus, glad to see Thetis actually invested in the games instead of her blasted weaving.

* * *

"That was a thrilling task," Thetis pleasantly remarked as Hephaestus maneuvered his chariot into the clouds.

He smirked. "You only say that because it involved water."

"Perhaps." She couldn't help but return his playful smirk. "Who do you think will win?"

"The young mage Potter will win," Hephaestus predicted as he adjusted his chariot's speed and veered left successfully avoiding an airplane—one bearing the aptly named _Olympic Airlines_ ' on its tail.

Thetis scoffed, nonplussed. "You forget Cedric Diggory—a more powerful and worthy champion than yours." She pointed to her newly acquired "button" that declared her support and loyalty to the _true_ Hogwarts Champion.

"That champion of yours is fated to join Hades if he claims the victory cup. I have seen it in my dreams."

Thetis stilled. "No, you are mistaken."

Hephaestus shook his head. "And when have I ever been mistaken about one of my visions?"

Thetis fell silent. Cedric was fated to die if he won the tournament. The Fates were against her—again!

No!

No, she wasn't going to let a descendant of Achilles fall again when he was not even finished with his schooling.

She would prevent him from claiming that trophy.

* * *

Slipping into the hedge maze unnoticed was easy when one had an invisibility cloak and was a water nymph. Even though she knew that she hadn't been detected, she reflexively stiffened and slowed her pace when she walked past the beasts that had been installed within the magical labyrinth.

'Why did they have to have a Sphinx?' she thought darkly. 'What odious creatures.'

She gave a silent thanks to Olympus when she finally reached the Triwizard Cup.

Now all she had to do was wait till Cedric came near and covertly prevent his taking of the cup, thus saving him from death.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long before Cedric and that other young wizard, Harry Potter, came into the small clearing that housed the plinth with its prized cup.

The Acromantula was a surprise addition and just as she extended her hand to help Cedric, Harry acted first. His herculean efforts to subdue the gigantic arachnid won him her admiration.

" _Harry! You all right? Did it fall on you?"_ Cedric called after the spider had finally succumbed to their joint _Stupefy_.

" _No."_

A short silence surrounded them as the youths regained their senses.

" _Take it, then. Go on, take it. You're there."_

No!

But thankfully, Cedric didn't rush to his doom.

" _You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."_

" _That's not how it's supposed to work_ —"

They continued on volleying arguments back-and-forth for several minutes until Harry offered the only solution that would appease both of their stubborn and noble natures:

" _Both of us_ — _we'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."_

They were going to do _what_? Jointly claim the title?

That was... _unexpected_.

Pride bloomed in her chest, however, as she witnessed Cedric help Harry limp towards the cup. Wouldn't her Achilles have done that very selfless act for a fellow champion?

" _On three..._ we both _take it together."_

Blinking away her tears, she readied herself for her task.

She would save Cedric—

" _One."_

—where she had failed Achilles before—

" _Two."_

—she _would_ succeed now!

" _Three!"_

Cedric rapidly lowered his hand but his Seeker-honed reflexes was still no match for a sea nymph's and his hand was roughly blocked and pushed away from its goal.

"Wha—?" Cedric sputtered as the cup and Harry vanished.

"That wasn't what was supposed to happen." Cedric fumbled as he looked around the clearing. "Harry!"

"You have his eyes," Thetis whispered as Cedric sent up a flare of distress with his wand before she begrudgingly departed.

Her tapestry needed finishing—she had been neglecting it for months!—and she didn't want to receive the order to appear before Zeus and Hera that was no doubt speeding towards her even now.

* * *

"Whatever do you have there, Lovegood?" Anthony Goldstein asked as he looked down at the sketchpad that the third-year held. He secretly enjoyed her paintings and sketches; granted most were of mythical or fanciful creatures—stemming from her father's odd beliefs, no doubt—but each drawing was enchanting and this one was no different. He was entranced. His eyes reflexively followed Luna's alternating strokes of blue, green, and gray from her charmed multicolored pencil as she finished her sketch.

"Oh, just a drawing of Thetis."

"Thetis?" The name _sounded_ familiar but why he couldn't say. Maybe it was one of the visiting students from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang.

"Yes, the sea nymph."

"Ah, of course." He automatically replied as he contemplated the finished drawing before him. The gathering folds of the woman's frock _did_ resemble waves and the far right blooming blue flower did remind him of a water lily—she did look like a water nymph!

Luna carefully charmed her drawing before closing her almost-full sketchpad. Offering half of her banana-nut muffin to Anthony she asked him, "She is sadly beautiful, isn't she?"

Mindful of his muffin-filled mouth Anthony simply nodded.

"I wonder why she stopped Cedric from winning."

He quickly swallowed. "What?"

"Didn't you know? She was there, in the maze."

"But she's just a mythical creature from an old legend—she isn't real."

"I drew her from memory," Luna's eyes twinkled, "she is as real as magic and nargles."

Anthony was speechless. He had never called her by that silly nickname— _Loony Lovegood_ —but he couldn't deny that what she had just claimed was definitely _loony_.

Thankfully, Professor Dumbledore chose that moment to stand and begin his end-of-school speech giving Anthony the perfect opportunity to move further down the table—away from Lovegood and her fanciful musings

An ancient, legendary water nymph interfering with the Triwizard Tournament—the idea was completely preposterous!

 _Fini_

* * *

 **Author's Note 2:** Big thank you to my awesome teammates for all their fabulous beta-ing and constructive thoughts and criticism—without y'all this would not be anywhere as good as it is now.

 _Pride Strong!_


	3. To Protect

**Author's Note 1:** Written for Round 9 of the QLFC

 **Team** : _Pride of Portree_

 **Position** : Chaser 2

 **Chaser 2:** Your task is to write a story about a known Quidditch player using the prompts associated with each piece of equipment. _Gloves:_ Write about a witch or wizard protecting someone.

 **Prompts Used:** 7\. (quote) Because when you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worthwhile. (Anne Shirley, of L.M. Montgomery's _Anne of Green Gables_ ), 12. (dialogue) "If I was a foot taller, would it have made a difference?", 14. (color) Lime green.

 **Word Count (excluding Author's Note):** 2,360

* * *

 **To Protect**

Charlie Weasley surveyed the quidditch pitch below him. He knew he shouldn't be here, hovering high above the school stands, about to watch the Hufflepuff try-outs, but he had to know if Tonks was really going through with her madcap notion of playing Quidditch. It would be beyond dangerous for _everyone_ involved if she did manage to make her House's team. After all, she wasn't jokingly called ' _Danger Dora'_ (a nickname that neither Charlie nor Tonks cared for but couldn't deny its accuracy) for nothing.

He didn't have to wait long before he saw a familiar short mop of unruly lime green hair bob onto the field with the other quidditch hopefuls.

Nor did he have to wait long till the first accident happened; tripping over her own broom, she collided into another Hufflepuff student who then collided into another. Much like dominoes, Charlie mused, chuckling a little despite himself. It was too much like the first time Charlie and Tonks had met.

* * *

He had been departing the Hogwarts Express into Hogsmeade station for the first time when she had tripped and stumbled into him and propelled both of them out of the train and flat onto the hard station platform.

 _"Wotcher! Sorry, must've tripped on the carpet."_ She had apologized after untangling herself from him and offering her hand amidst the chorus of laughter led by his brother Bill.

 _"Accidents happen,"_ he had automatically replied after waving away her offer to help.

From there she had capsized a boat as they were docking under the castle (which required McGonagall to cast a swift drying spell on Tonks' boat party) and somehow managed to overturn her entire House table as she took her seat after the old hat sorted her into Hufflepuff.

Yes, accidents happened to everyone, but Tonks seemed to have a rather large monopoly on them.

Their friendship had come about due to sheer propinquity and her uncanny ability to always _literally_ run into him, or, for that matter, fall _on_ him.

* * *

Charlie took out his wand as Tonks took her broom into the air. He was ready to cast whatever charms to protect her from falling and breaking something, like she'd broken her ankle during her first Flying Lesson two years ago. Though a broken bone wasn't as serious for a witch as it was in the Muggle realm, he still wanted to prevent harm from befalling his friend. It had been one of the main reasons why he had signed up for Care of Magical Creatures.

* * *

"You made reserves!" Charlie exclaimed after Tonks informed him of the news later that day. He knew that Alasdair Maddock, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, was eccentric but had he also lost his mind?

"Yep," Tonks grinned, rocking back and forth on her feet. "Alasdair thinks I'll be a smashing Chaser, but since the team's already got three good ones, I'm on backup."

Charlie blinked. "A Chaser?" At Tonks's simple nod he paled. "As in _the player that has to dodge bludgers_ and get the Quaffle through the goal?"

Tonk frowned. "I believe all the players have to dodge bludgers sooner or later. You did twice last year and you're the Seeker. Besides, Jones and Winters are going to be great Beaters and they'll keep the other team's bludger away."

Alasdair had lost his mind. "Jones and Winters are the ones picked to replace the Honeywell Twins? But they hate each other."

Tonks dismissed his concern with a simple wave. "Usually, but this is Quidditch! I'm sure they will work together for the good of Hufflepuff."

* * *

It was a bright, blustery day. A perfect day for the first Hufflepuff Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Charlie was with his house-mates and trying his best to ignore his prefect brother Bill and his gang. He secretly kept his wand on hand, just in case he needed to cast a quick charm to aid his friend, if Tonks had to fill in for whatever reason. He knew it would technically be a foul but he didn't care, not if it would keep Tonks safe.

"Charlie, where is your little friend, Tonks?" Bill asked, leaning closer to his younger brother so he could be heard over the usual clatter of the student stands. "She's not stuck in the Hospital Wing again, is she?"

"No, she isn't in the Hospital Wing. She's waiting in the Substitute's Box."

Bill laughed. "She's a Reserve player? Oh, this will be a great season. Might be Hogwarts' last but it will still be a great season."

Charlie glared at Bill who smirked but said no more. He knew when to stop kidding Charlie about his odd friendship with the accident-prone Hufflepuff.

Thankfully, the match went smoothly with a surprise win at the last minute for Hufflepuff when their Seeker, Pamela Hodges, caught the Golden Snitch which helped them win by fifty points. Charlie applauded the win and sent a silent thanks to Heaven that Tonks wasn't needed for the match and that it would be months before the next Hufflepuff game. A game where he would also be in the skies and in a better position to protect little Tonks from whatever.

* * *

"Blimey, Charlie, a dragonologist. " Tonks whistled as they rode together in the horseless carriages to Hogsmeade station and the awaiting Hogwarts Express that would take them back to Kings Cross and their respective families for the winter holidays. "What about Quidditch?"

"What about it?"

"I thought you were going into Quidditch professionally."

Charlie sighed. "I was but—remember last month? When Professor Kettleburn had that dragon keeper over for class?"

Tonks nodded. "He had that baby Lion Dragon?"

Charlie frowned. "Lion Dragon?"

Tonks smirked. "Yeah, it looked like," she paused as she morphed her face and head into that of a scarlet scaled dragon, "this."

"The Chinese Fireball." Charlie dodged the puff of smoke that escaped Tonks's dragon mouth.

"Sorry," Tonks apologized before she morphed back.

"Don't be," Charlie commented as he watched her transformation. He wished he could do that. "Because when you are morphing, you might as well change into something worthwhile."

Tonks chuckled and nudged Charlie with her elbow. "I believe it goes, 'Because when you are _imagining_ , you might as well _imagine_ something worthwhile.'"

Charlie shrugged. "I've heard it both ways."

Tonks shook her head. "Anyway, Care of Magical Creatures class, Professor Kettleburn's guest dragonologist, baby Chinese Fireball, all made you decide to hang-up your pro-Quidditch gloves for some dragon fire-resistant ones, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Cool," Tonks replied as their carriage slowed to a stop. "Race you to the train?"

Charlie frowned and was about to protest against her suggestion—the memory of her stumbling over someone's toad and causing several students to fall onto the platform still fresh from last June—but she had already hopped over the door and tripped on her trainers which resulted in her falling, face first, into the ground below their carriage.

"Tonks!" Charlie exclaimed as he moved to the door and opened it to find Tonks shaking herself from her fall. "You okay?"

"I'm all right."

"You're bleeding."

"I am?" Tonks examined her forearm where Charlie had pointed. There was a small abrasion from the cobblestone payment. "Oh, that'll heal up fine. Nothing to worry about."

Charlie frowned at her almost-disappointed tone. Only Tonks would be disappointed that she didn't earn a new scar.

* * *

"Charlie! Wotcher Charlie, wait up!"

Charlie slowed as a beaming Tonks, complete with bright canary yellow hair, came bouncing up to him from the Quidditch pitch. It was a lovely spring day for Quidditch practice. Both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor teams had taken advantage of the fair weather; Gryffindor that morning and Hufflepuff during the free period between classes and the evening feast.

"I'm playing this weekend! Tom Boye got glandular fever and will be down for at least the rest of this week. Isn't that great? I mean, me playing, not that Tom is sick, of course."

Charlie grinned despite the growing feeling of dread beginning to uncoil within him. He couldn't help but mirror Tonks contagious happiness at least outwardly. But his grin didn't last long.

"You've been practicing, right?"

Tonks's smile faltered slightly. "Of course I have. I haven't just been a deadweight during practice all these months."

Charlie opened his mouth to try to persuade her to be careful but he thought better of it. No need to start another row with her. After all she hadn't barked, rebuked, or dismissed his new life-goal of becoming a dragonologist after Hogwarts as most of his family had during the winter holidays. Heck, she even called his dream cool.

"Congrats Tonks!" He finally offered, regaining his previous grin. "I'll be expecting your O-game Sunday."

"Count on it, Weasley."

* * *

This was quickly becoming a mistake, a disaster even, as the ongoing match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff dragged on.

Tonks was decent on the broom and had managed to score three goals but she had almost ended up in the Hospital Wing five times. The last two times he had to physically block his team's bludgers with his own broom while he "pursued" the snitch, which he had not seen for the last hour.

A penalty shot for a foul was the only respite he had since the start of the match. Then it would be back to keeping an eye on Tonks, any wayward bludgers that might do her harm, and for the sighting of the snitch.

As Alasdair scored the penalty goal, Charlie spotted the golden snitch buzzing just above and right of the Hufflepuff's third hoop. Charlie rapidly dove towards it before he heard the student announcer's ominous words. "Gryffindor Beater Alex Sweetwater has just sent two, that's right, _two_ bludgers towards Hufflepuff Chaser reserve Nymphadora Tonks."

Charlie immediately stopped and swiftly turned around. The snitch forgotten, he sped up and drove down just inches from a quaffle-carrying Tonks. There was an intense explosion of pain in his chest, then someone was shouting his name from very far away before he fell into blackness.

* * *

Charlie blinked repeatedly against the bright light that greeted him when he opened his eyes. It was obvious that he wasn't dead or on the Quidditch pitch, but it was still too bright to make out his surroundings.

"It's about time you came around."

"Tonks?" He managed, wishing he had some water to quench his parched mouth.

"It sure isn't the tooth fairy."

He chuckled only to discover a dull ache in his chest and his head. "What happened?"

"You foolishly dove between me and those bludgers and got clobbered, that's what happened." She sat down on the side of the bed. "You're in the Hospital Wing."

Charlie groaned as the memory of being hit back-to-back by both iron balls came rushing back to him. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he coughed and looked around. A handful of get well cards and assorted sweets littered his nightstand. It looked like he had been out for several days if not weeks.

He silently poured a glass of water and gulped it down before asking who had won.

"We did, I mean, Hufflepuff won. 250–260." Tonks quickly corrected herself as Charlie poured himself another glass of water. "Toby Stewart spotted the snitch just as you got bludgered and drove for it. He caught it only seconds after I made my goal."

"So you weren't hurt then."

"No."

"No?"

"Well, that's not quite true. After I threw the quaffle through the nearest hoop, I dove down to try to help you, and somehow during my rapid dive I got a splinter."

"A splinter?" He laughed despite the dull ache in his chest. That was so typically Tonks.

"Oi, I'll have you know that splinters can be quite painful."

Charlie quickly controlled his laughter. "I know. I've had splinters before. Terrible things."

Tonks gave Charlie a mild glare. "Anyway, that's my official reason for leaving the Hufflepuff Quidditch team."

"Wait, you quit? Why?"

Tonks sighed. "I told you. My official reason is—"

"—no, what is the real, unofficial reason?"

Tonks sighed again. "You."

Charlie blinked, truly dumbfounded. " _Me_?"

"You've got this notion that you have to be my shining knight or something."

"No, I never—"

"You keep trying to protect me on the pitch."

He sighed. He couldn't deny that. He had been trying to keep her safe. She was like a surrogate little sister.

She finally turned to face him again. "Tell me, if I was a foot taller, would it have made a difference? Would you have not hurt yourself to protect me?"

Charlie looked down at his hands but remained quiet.

"If I was older?"

Charlie shrugged.

"If I was a boy?"

He looked up and locked eyes with his friend. Both studied each other as Charlie reluctantly agreed that if she was taller, older, and a boy instead of a girl then he wouldn't have been trying to protect her so strongly.

"I knew it," she muttered before jabbing Charlie on his arm.

"Oi!" Charlie protested as he rubbed his now sore forearm.

"Get this through your dense red-headed brain: I'm no shrinking violet. I know I get into more than my fair share of accidents, but I'm still growing and I don't mind the odd scar—it shows that at least I've lived a little."

"Okay," Charlie finally said after several moments of silence passed between the two friends. "I'll hang up my armor. No more shining knight Charlie to save the day."

Tonks frowned. "You don't have to hang it up for good. Just don't wear it for me. We're friends, not brother and sister."

"Alright."

"Good." Both teenagers smiled then. "Now then, let's have some of that chocolate you have there."

Charlie threw her a carton of Every Flavor Beans before opening up one of the three chocolate frogs that he had been given.

After a few seconds of blissful munching on their sweets Tonks leaned over and kissed Charlie on the cheek, using the distraction to steal the last unopened chocolate frog for herself. Charlie didn't mind, though. As he saw it, a friendly kiss was a more than fair trade for a chocolate frog anyday.

 _Fini_

* * *

 **Author's Note 2:** A big shout out to my awesome teammates who beta'ed and give some great points and constructive criticism. Y'all rock!


	4. Just to Love You

**Author's Note:** Written for Round 10 of the QLFC

 **Team** : _Pride of Portree_

 **Position** : Chaser 2

 **Chaser 2:** Your task is to write a story inspired by your assigned song: _Bette Davis Eyes,_ 1980s.

 **Prompts Used:** 10\. (word) Luminous, 12. (restriction) No Character Names, 15. (image) vi / taYqwXhBogU /

 **Word Count (excluding Author's Note):** 1,625

* * *

 **Just to Love You**

 _Summer, 1979._

"Since _your_ family have been such loyal _supporters_ I shall listen to your defence before giving my final decision for finding you _here._ " The handsome, charismatic dark wizard that had captured the hearts of the pureblood supremacists hissed as he circled the scion of the second ancient house—second after his own.

"I wanted to verify that _it_ was safe and still secured my lord."

A well-manicured hand forced the still-kneeling young wizard to face his angry and evil master.

"Lies." the deceivingly handsome man purred, dropping his hold on his vowed servant's chin. "You _dare_ lie to your lord and master?"

"Please, my lord, I have always been faithful to our cause and you—"

"Yes, you have. Until now when you come here." He paused in his his pacing and tilted his head as his captivating eyes narrowed menacingly at the young wizard that still remained his family's famous calm demeanor and proud air even now when certain death was coming ever closer. Snatching his chin he rushed into the doomed wizard's memories, flashes of important family moments gave way to blurred images of Hogwarts and Quidditch matches which faded into clearer scenes of clandestine meetings with some Ravenclaw witch with golden blonde hair that quickly showed their bond growing in the months after their schooling, finally leading to what the powerful wizard wanted; visual proof of his servant fervently looking through one dark text after another till he had found the hints that had led the boy to the knowledge of Horcruxes—even the Dark Lord had to pry the information out of that oversized walrus of a professor for he hadn't come as far with his research. This however, did not please or quiet down the older wizard at all. No one outdid him. _No one!_

"Why?" he finally hissed.

"We're not meant to live forever and you're not as compassionate as you try to appear—"

"Enough!" He roared as his hand slapped the petulant young wizard hard, twice. "For that, I shall take pleasure in killing you."

The young wizard didn't stand or reach for his wand; he wasn't his disowned brother that had been Sorted to that House noted for its blind bravely—no he would die dignified. But, his heart lurched painfully; how he wished he could see his beloved once more!

* * *

"That's odd; I was sure this was the perfect place for Gnooks to nest." The long haired, dirty blonde absently remarked as she wandered around the old abandoned house that had fallen to ill repair since the war had begun.

"Father always said that they were drawn to mischief and Muggle spray paint…" she trailed off as a rather regal eagle owl hooted and joined her after successfully maneuvering through the empty doorway.

She knew to whom the grand owl belonged to; anyone from her year and slightly above knew it from its regular appearance every morning at the Slytherin table, but she knew its name, a feat that wasn't as widely known.

After greeting the bird and rewarding it with an owl treat, she wasn't surprised that it waited patiently for her to compose a message in reply.

The rolled scroll simply read: "Need your uncanny talents. My family library and adjacent study is being haunted by _something_. Await your answer."

Using the supplied parchment (a thoughtful gesture to be sure) and her ever handy quill, she quickly but neatly scribbled her agreement to come and help as early as the following morning. After all, she still had a whole deserted house to dissect.

* * *

"Through here," the blond wizard informed her as he motioned to the open doorway before them. "It all started about week ago—"

"Friday the thirteenth." She automatically calculated the date as she tentatively stepped into the darkened library.

He stilled momentarily and then continued on as he followed her. "—and it has been steadily intensifying since."

She didn't have to ask what he was referring to, for a soft, haunting melody was already beginning to fill the room. She blinked twice and looked around her.

"I can't place the ruddy thing and no amount of silencing charms effectively mute it for long."

"I _know_ this song."

"You do? What is its blasted name?"

" _Bette Davis Eyes_ ," the blonde witch whispered reverently as she went from one bookcase to another looking for the circular disc that she _knew_ had to be there.

"Do you know what this is then?" The relief in his voice, causing her to smile even though her search was turning up fruitless.

"Yes, my mother is here."

A single white blond eyebrow rose as he kept his eyes on the constantly moving witch.

"Your mother? Your _dead_ mother is here?"

"Of course. This is her favorite song. She was even listening to this song when—when she died performing that new spell."

The wizard slowly closed his eyes for two beats in understanding before deciding to join her as she neared the last section of books. For some unknown reason, he needed to be near her.

Just as she was beginning to doubt that she would find the old record, there it was; lying flat under a stack of untitled bond journals. Her mother's record.

The moment her fingers touched the grooved and scratched surface, an electric shock and bright light engulfed her. Her last memory was being caught by someone and the low rumble of voices, both familiar despite the distortion as she passed out.

* * *

"We should have owled first. They won't like being disrupted."

Before he could ask what she meant by "they" the door to his Godfather's apartment banged opened to reveal a disheveled and clearly irritable former Potions Master.

"What—" The the former professor paused as he forced himself to speak calmly and levelary, "—do you want—" He paused again as he surveyed both blondes before him, "— _godson_?" He stressed the last word and he managed to keep his famous gravitas even with his hair askew, his shirt unbuttoned, and his shirt tails hanging out of his trousers.

"Our apologizes, Professor, but I need to talk to your fiancée," the blonde explained as she walked past him into his apartment.

The quick flash of surprise that lightened the blond man's godfather's features told the blond wizard that her words were true. That the Potions master and the bookish know-it-all were at least shacking up together.

 _That was honestly surprising._ The blond, however, wisely kept quiet about the subject as he silently joined the two witches, who were chatting amiably in the front parlor.

* * *

Hours later, both blondes were back in the ancient manor house's library but now with both the record and the wax cylinder they had recently received from the inner sanctum of 12 Grimmauld Place they were ready to activate both and hopefully, release the two trapped souls.

Like earlier, the melody begun as they played the discs but now _two_ luminous figures flickered into focus and projected light into the dark library.

The blond wizard's lip twitched upward as he witnessed the bittersweet reunion between the apparent lost lovers.

"I waited for you but you never returned. I—yes, I married. I had to go forward," the lady ghost explained as she took a step closer to the gentleman ghost. "I never stopped loving you, though."

The blond wizard didn't get to hear his cousin's reply as he was far too preocupied by the fact that his blonde witch had quietly sneaked out of the library and into the garden. Not bothering to bid the two ghosts good night—a gesture that would've been lost anyway—he swiftly left the library and ventured into the garden, joining her by the bubbling Greek-inspired fountain depicting two doomed mythical characters tight in a lover's embrace.

His inquiry died on his lips as he saw the twin crystal trails of wetness gracing his witch's cheeks. Tears. Gathering her into his arms, he silently held her as he watched the two ghosts share a last dance through the tall windows of the secluded library. Their combined glow shone brightly as they twirled and floated past the large bay windows.

It was a bewitching sight; one that made him want to sweep the witch in his arms into a matching dance. He did so slowly, carefully, humming a soft tune that his mother once sung to him years ago.

"It'll be alright," he whispered reassuringly into her hair as he took her hands into his and continued to slowly sway them around the cobblestone path, "love always finds a way."

* * *

 _Yuletide, 1976._

"We should dance."

Only due to years of training was he able to keep his features schooled from the surprise and sudden thrill her statement had given him. Thanking his mother's assistance that he should be tutored in the art of dance as well as other gentlemanly skills, he vanished his now empty glass away and led his date onto the modest dance floor that their walrus-mustached Potions professor had arranged to be there for his famous Christmas party.

She, too, must have underwent instruction, for she was light on her feet and answered every one of his movements with smooth and elegant ones of her own. For the first time, the world and all its external problems vanished around them—it was only them. No deadbeat brother or his annoying friends. No demands to uphold his family's name and honor. No inter-House rivalry.

Too soon the song died away and the announcement that the feast would be served broke the enchantment that had momentarily woven between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Even so, something had forever changed between the two friends, something tangible and sweet, and he wished that they could just keep dancing forever.

 _Fini_


	5. Wintertime Blessings

**Author's Note: Written for Round 11 of the QLFC, Seasons Greetings**

 **Team: Pride of Portree**

 **Position: Chaser 2**

 **Chaser 2: Write about a birth on a winter night(s).**

 **Prompts Used:** 3\. (dialogue) "You can't start a new chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one." 4. (song) _I Hold On_ \- Dierks Bentley. 5. (word) asleep ****

 **Word Count (** _ **excluding Author's Note**_ **):** 1,658

 **Wintertime Blessings**

Severus reflexively reached for his cigarette case and opened it before snapping it closed—a nervous tick left over from the days when it was filled with a top quality tobacco blend that he had devised himself, nearly twenty years ago. On a night such as this, he would still smack the empty case against his palm, opening and closing it out of habit; a nervous tic.

Tonight, however, he wished he had just one cigarette to smoke—to steady his nerves, to give him more to do than be about as useful as the empty case he was holding.

Then again, St Mungo's had a very strict anti-smoking policy. One that had landed _the_ Lucius Malfoy in the headlines when he was "escorted" out of the ancient hospital after daring to hand out cigars upon the news of his son Draco's birth all those years ago.

The nurse responsible—Nurse Alice—was still employed there and was, even now, frowning her disapproval at Severus and keeping an especially close eye on the element in his hands as he juggled it. He consciously straightened his Order of Merlin on his robes; there were _some_ advantages to being a war hero, and he would cash in every single one if it meant being able to stay close to his wife right now.

Nurses and mediwitches bustled back and forth all throughout the ward, but it was the midwife Severus was straining to catch a glimpse of. He had already been informed, upon his dramatic and late arrival, that she was assisting at no fewer than _four_ births this evening. The dour face and flat tone of Nurse Alice's voice as she delivered this message was in and of itself the judgement: _You should've been here sooner._

Severus clicked the case closed again in frustration. Why _hadn't_ he? How could he _possibly_ have missed that first message from Hermione? He still wasn't sure. Certainly, he had been bent over his cauldron, as per usual, working on a potion he thought he _might_ be able to convince their doula to employ should Hermione's discomfort become unbearable.

Of course they had argued about it.

"Absolutely NOT, Severus!" she'd yelled at him from the top of the stairs. She didn't dare venture into the basement lab any more. Not in her current state. "We've already had this conversation. I am having a natural birth, with whatever that entails."

Severus moved to stand at the bottom of the stairs. "It has not been so much of a conversation, my dear, as it has been a directive. By you. To me. Which goes over _oh_ -so-well between us, don't you think?"

"It's not up to you," she had replied. "I'm the one who has to do the heavy lifting now, and it's going to be _my_ way."

She turned with a surprising amount of grace for one so large, and left him to his own devices. He shook his head and continued to work on the potion despite Hermione's express wishes to the contrary.

They were frighteningly alike in that way. Each was certain they knew better than the other.

A gust of wind blew, rattling the darkened windows behind him, and Severus found himself startled back to reality. His head jolted up to see that night had fallen, and with it, a new blanket of snow. He could not help but face the reality of another Prince being born in the dead of winter.

 _Isn't it what Mother always said?_ He wondered to himself. _That, on her side of the family, most of the children shared this season as that of their birth?_ He tried to remember, but he had been so young.

He had never quite had enough time with his mum. It was not in his father's interest to allow her to dote too much on her son. Stories that other children might've heard over and over sometimes only came to Severus once in his lifetime, if at all. One of those stories was that of his own birth.

It had been close to Christmas, or so Severus supposed by the amount of lights on the other houses and carolers in the streets. Spinner's End was never decorated and holidays were always sparse, but one could not help but notice the signs of joyous celebration all about the neighborhood.

He had been four or five at the most, and a storm had come through, trapping them in the house with a drunk and nasty Tobias. As a means to give them a reprieve, Eileen wrapped them both up in many layers and went outside to clear the walk, taking Severus with her. As they both shivered in the snow, she told him about how he came into the world.

How deep the snow was when they left for the hospital.

How the night was so cold, his father had wrapped her up in a coat and a scarf and put a blanket around it all so that she could hardly move in the front seat of the car.

How the sun had been obscured by clouds in the early morning chill, but that he had not been put into her arms until the dead of night.

"I would not have even know you were there had it not been for the paleness of your skin, my love," she had said to him.

"Headmaster?" a voice called him back.

"Hmmm?" he blinked hard and turned.

"If you plan to join us, now would be the time," the smiling midwife repeated. "Your wife has been asking for you."

"She has?!" That seemed to jolt him back to reality, and before he knew it, he was practically sprinting down the corridor with the midwife straining to keep pace.

As he entered the room, it seemed almost as if a party were taking place. Harry was there; he'd come to the rescue when Severus could not be reached. Molly Weasley, too, who was doling out advice with a side of baked goods of some sort. The midwife had at least two additional assistants on hand, since she herself was juggling several births at once. And, in the middle of it all, Hermione; flushed and sweaty although seemingly in good spirits as attested to by the smile that was spread across her face as she waddled toward him

"Severus!" she cried, her hand reaching out toward him as he entered. He immediately crossed to her.

"Why aren't you in bed? What are you doing?!" he practically yelled.

"Walking," she replied with almost perfect calm. "It is prescribed for this part of the labour. You'd know that if you payed more attention to the birthing plan and spent less time on your potions," she chided him, reaching up knowingly to feel the vial he'd hidden in his robes.

He grasped her hand to his chest. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to be in pain."

She smiled. "That is how this works, I'm afraid," she answered, with a bit of a grimace.

Her progress seemed to pause, but then she gritted her teeth.

"Stronger?" the midwife asked.

"Yes. Most definitely stronger," Hermione answered.

"Ok, then. Let's have a look."

Hermione made her way back to her bed and the doula quickly sized up the situation.

"It won't be long now," she said. "Time to man our stations and get ready to have a baby!"

A fine sheen of sweat had long since broken out along Severus' hairline, but now it proceeded with an icy chill down his back. A baby. _His_ baby. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Was there some way to simply put it off until later? He knew better than to ask.

When his eyes met his wife's from across the small room, she only laughed.

"My thoughts exactly, Severus," she said, "but from what they tell me, there is only one way this night ends."

She stretched her hand out toward him, and he took a deep breath, grabbed her hand, and took his place by her side.

The midwife had been more than magical; she was an angel in Severus' eyes. Not only had she kept everyone calm and focused, but she was a true artist in the wonderment of birth. In no time at all it seemed, a squalling pink mass of groping fingers and kicking feet had been bundled up and placed in his arms. A shock of fine black hair peeked out of the swaddling across a red face. There was no telling what color his eyes were; they were squeezed shut as he concentrated on screaming.

"Good set of lungs, that," Nurse Alice poked her head in the door. "Time for the shift change, but I wanted to extend my congratulations, Headmaster." She nodded brusquely and made a prompt exit. Severus looked up to see dawn breaking outside; dusky blue giving way to the palest blush of pink in the sky. The night was past and a new day was here for all of them.

Hermione lay with her eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep as the midwives tended to her recovery. Unbeknownst to Severus, she cracked an eye open to see him standing in the wan light of day, their child in his arms. By the time he turned back around, the room was quiet and his wife was truly asleep.

His whole mind had been turned toward the past as he paced and fretted and waited to be let into this room, but now? As he looked down into his arms at the face of a child of his own, he could only turn his mind to the future.

 _What was that thing Albus use to say?_

"You can't start a new chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one." He could almost hear the old man's voice in his head.

 _He could not have been more right_.

 _Fini_

 **Author's Note 2:** Major beta credit and kudos go to Sarah ( _Sekdaniels_ ) and Oni ( _StoryPlease)_ for all their wonderful help getting this together. Without y'all this wouldn't be anywhere as good. Thank you and I owe you.


	6. No Charity, Please

**Author's Note: Written for Round 12 of the QLFC, Pair Up!**

 **Team: Pride of Portree**

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 _ **Chaser 2 Prompt:**_ You'll be writing about two characters in a colleagues relationship: James Potter l and Remus Lupin.

 _Prompts Used:_ 2\. (scenario) a quidditch accident, 8. (dialogue) "Move away from the door and let me at him!", 9. (object) windmill

 **Word Count ( _excluding Author's Note_ ):** 2,021

 **Note:** This is an AU in which James and Lily Potter survived the First Wizarding War, and where Peter Pettigrew never became a Death Eater.

This is a canon divergent AU.

While it is mentioned when in the timeline this AU diverges from canon the how, where, why, and the specifics are not. (That is for another story and time.)

* * *

No Charity, Please

* * *

Colleague

 _One associated with others in some employment—not of partners in business._

(Chambers's Twentieth Century Dictionary of the English Language, 1908.)

* * *

Remus wiped his brow and surveyed his work. After three hard hours of physical labor—it always helped to do strenuous work approaching the full moon—he had chopped enough wood to cover the rest of the week.

Good. He would need that. He could sense it in his bones that it was going to be a particularly bad transformation this month.

With a wave of his wand and the appropriate charms cast, he allowed himself a small smile as the split logs danced and arranged themselves in orderly stacks by his cabin's back door—thirty yards away from the chopping stump.

The cheerful melody of crickets singing was the only sound that could be heard in the early mist of twilight. The oddity of crickets being present on an island a few dozen miles off the coast of Scotland still slightly unnerved him. (Where had they come from?)

As the light faded, the chirping and tweeting from the island's colony of songbirds had slowly grown quieter until Remus could only hear a nest of young hatchlings' soft peeps from far in the distance. The sudden booming of distant thunder came as no surprise to Remus—Moony had sensed rain would come since morning—but the distinct aroma of curry did.

What was James doing here?

Although, all four of the Marauders still boasted that their friendship was as strong as ever, sadly it wasn't. It hadn't been for many years, not since their sixth year when the war had finally crescendoed into a statistical victory for the Ministry, Dumbledore, and his multilevel resistance organization that he had carefully orchestrated into the necessary yang to Voldemort's yin.

They would still meet for a round of pints at the Three Broomsticks every month and they would still gather for a friendly game of Quixote Quidditch every other week or so, but that was the extent of their once famous comradeship nowadays.

Oh, they kept up a unified front during business hours and at the occasional progress meetings but it was merely professional courtesy.

They weren't friends—not truly, not anymore—but rather friendly colleagues.

Their strong friendship hadn't crumbled in one night but bit by bit down through the years. Starting at that cursed last battle and receiving the coup de grâce, as it were, when the newly formed Marauders Associates, LLC had bought the small bookstore he had been working for, six years ago.

 _"Your bookshop would be a perfect addition to the Marauders." James and Lily had declared one rainy Sunday afternoon as the small bidding family browsed the orderly rows of books and various school supplies. Little Harry stayed close to his mother, only venturing within a few feet of her to look at a cover that had caught his eye or to bring a book back to her. All the while his baby sister, Amabel, was happily cocooned within her baby sling. Her nimble fingers kept busy playing with her mother's necklace._

 _"I don't own it." I can't own it, ever, was what he meant._

 _"You run it_ like _you do." Lily had countered. "I can tell how much you put into this place. Not a single book out of order and that little children's corner with all the wonderful educational books wasn't here two years ago."_

 _Remus had turned to straighten a center display of various journals to hide his growing blush. Lily always could make him blush. Make him feel normal if only for a moment. "Mister Greene is the one you need to talk to. He is the one nice enough to employ a werewolf."_

 _"That's why we're here." James had begun, summoning a tied, rolled parchment. "Mister Lucas Greene—the former proprietor of Arcane Academia Books—has sold us the whole store. The whole building too."_

 _"What? He never told me anything about this." Remus took the parchment and quickly scanned its contents. He had had no knowledge that Greene had been thinking about retiring or selling the store, yet the magical deed of sale proved that this wasn't another one of James's pranks._

 _"Count this as his way of telling you." James gleefully added as he accepted the deed back._

 _Lily had gently laid her hand on Remus's arm. "He did want you to have it, but since you couldn't legally he came to us."_

 _"You're now looking at half of your new employers." James had grinned. "_ Arcane Academia Books _is now owned by Marauders. Welcome back, Moony."_

In a matter of a week, the name of the bookstore was changed to _Roman's Academic Texts and Supplies_ and the modest two-room flat above the store had been loaned to him—his first flat.

On the surface, it appeared that everyone was happy with the consolidation but in reality, Remus was not. Sure, he got to stay and run the bookstore his way, even initiating a few things that Greene had always vetoed, but that didn't stop the fact that all of it was charity—and Remus knew that charity had no place in business.

Neither James nor Sirius (oddly Peter always came by regularly for a meal of fish and chips followed by whatever Quidditch match was on the wireless) had been by the island since Remus had completed his modest cabin eighteen months ago.

Remus was the only unattached wizard at Marauders Associates—the perpetual bookish bachelor—a choice that he had doggedly made due to his ailment, but the knowledge that everyone was in a committed relationship besides him had only increased his loneliness more. A fact that was only emphasized more when he had been given free run of this small island.

 _"Surprise, Remus!"_

 _It was his twenty-sixth birthday and his first true surprise party. His flat had been decorated with red and gold streamers and banners. Everyone he had been close with during school had_ showed _up. It was one of the happiest moments of his life—until he had opened the gift from James, Sirius, and Peter._

 _"Is this a land deed? Oh, I could never take this! It's too generous!" Remus had exclaimed looking from James to Sirius to Peter, his shock clear._

 _"Not just some old land but a beautiful island." Sirius beamed._

 _"Island?" Remus had asked, opening the folded legal document he held._

 _"Yep." James grinned. "A private island just for Moony to roam and claim for his own."_

 _So, it's a safety measure against the wolf_... Remus' thoughts and his brief surge of joy trailed off into disappointment and regret. If even the group of guys who had become secret animagi did not trust him fully then maybe it truly was time to move to a deserted isle, away from everyone.

Remus still felt the disappointment and emotional pain from their dismissal of him as their tenant. He still missed the tiny apartment over his bookstore in the heart of Hogsmeade but he had been in the way of progress there.

Now his apartment was used as another storeroom for the bookshop and he was expelled here—an isolated island where he didn't place anyone and everyone in mortal danger—every night.

The proverbial cherry on top was that he hadn't—couldn't—legally own any of it thanks to being outed by Snape during their seventh year. Lily had been furious at Snape—they all had—but the kneazle had already been let out of the bag. He was a card-carrying werewolf.

"Hi Remus, missed you at the match today." James levitated his empty curry takeaway to the bin and then summoned a beer from Remus's icebox. "Oh, you're out of beer." He held up the beer he had just summoned. "Last one."

That was the last straw. He had had a full six pack this morning—more than enough for now and tomorrow.

Flicking his wand Remus silently collected the last beer before James could open it.

"Oi, Remus!" James protested.

"James, what are you doing here?" Drinking my beer and eating takeaway without bringing enough to share, he silently added as he opened the beer for himself.

"Come on Moony. What's some beer between friends?"

"Indeed, cheers," Remus muttered and took a nice long drink. The bitter, cold liquid was exactly what he needed after his long day working and to pre-medicate for his fast-approaching transformation; now only a few hours away.

James sighed and flopped down onto a nearby stool. "I guess I did have enough beer."

Remus joined him while keeping a firm hold on his last beer.

"Had another little row—or I will when I get back home—with the love and light of my life."

"What did you do this time?" Remus found himself asking, though he didn't know why. They weren't best mates anymore.

"You act as though I'm the one at fault."

Remus quirked an eyebrow as he took another swig of beer.

"Okay, all right, this time I might be the one to blame." James rolled his shoulders.

Remus drank and waited. His eyes constantly strayed to the clock ticking down his last minutes as a human before his descent into a bloodthirsty animal that knew nothing of friendship, compassion, or love.

"I might have let Harry play in a friendly game of Quidditch."

"James you didn't. He's only eight!"

James frowned. "You sound like Lily. Look he's fine…now…for the most part."

Remus gritted his teeth. "What happened?"

"You've seen Harry on a broom. He's a natural Seeker with how good he flies and plays. Why, he can spot that snitch and chase it like the wind."

Remus nodded his agreement. He had once seen Harry in action and the boy did have promise.

"His dream is to become the youngest Seeker on the Gryffindor team in over a century. It's a doable dream but one that requires practice. Lots of practice and often. Except…"

"Except, what?"

"Harry still has trouble with judging distances—something he inherited from me—and when he grabbed the hovering snitch he didn't realize that instead of being slightly above and out of the way of the windmill blades that he was still right in the path."

Remus closed his eyes. "How bad are the injuries?"

"Not too bad. Isela Blue—"

Remus reflexively sighed in relief. If Isela—Sirius's live-in girlfriend and student mediwitch extraordinaire—was there, then it shouldn't be too bad.

"—healed his arm right up. It's practically perfect. Just a little tender and sore. Should be right as rain in a day or two."Just as Remus was about to question his colleague further, a loud series of knocks threatened to bring down his cabin's door.

"That will be Lily." James paled and summoned his cloak. "Stall her, please Moony. I hate to face her when she's this furious—never ends well."

Remus was going to tell him to open the door and face his wife but he found he couldn't. Even though they were little more than glorified colleagues he had compassion on him. Lily could be a right monster when angered with righteous indignation.

"All right. You have three minutes." A loud bang shook the whole front of the cabin. "Better make that one."

James nodded and grinned his thanks before slipping on his cloak and vanished.

Remus opened the door but kept his hold on it as he successfully blocked the irate witch's from storming into the cabin.

"Lily what a pleasant surprise. What brings you—"

"Remus, move away from the door and let me at him!" Lily interrupted anger still ablaze in her emerald eyes.

The small pop that emitted from behind Remus told him that James had left. Good.

Lily pursed her lips and looked from behind Remus to him and back again. "He's apparated away."

Remus relaxed. "Yes."

"Do you know what he did?"

"He told me, yes. How's Harry?"

Lily deflated somewhat. Remus wasn't the one at fault. "He's his father's son. He keeps telling Amabel about his grand chase around that field and windmill to catch that elusive snitch. Keeps parading around the yard and house with his sling."

Remus smirked. That did sound like something James would have done back when he was Harry's age or back before they all had been friends at Hogwarts.

After Lily had left, Remus vanished his empty beer. Maybe they weren't the closest of friends anymore, but being colleagues wasn't too bad he supposed.

 _Fini_

* * *

 **Author's Note 2:** Big shoutout to my wonderful teammates who beta'd and helped mold this into a better story by their questions.


	7. Curiosity Killed Our Friendship

**Author's Note: Written for Finals Round** **1 of the QLFC**

 **Team: Pride of Portree**

 **Position: Chaser** **2**

 **Chaser** **2:** **Write about someone who visits Knockturn Alley often.**

 **Prompts Used:** **3\. (quote) "Now that was an awfully big threat."** \- _**Once** **Upon**_ _**A**_ _**Time;**_ **5\. (dialogue) "If you leave now, you get nothing.";** **6.** **(image)** art/A-family-of-folded-dragons-24110210 .

 **Word Count _(excluding Author's Note):_ 2,169**

* * *

 **Curiosity Killed** _ **Our**_ **Friendship**

 _Late in the year of 1912:_

Leta Lestrange didn't hesitate as she used the dense fog as a cloak to disguise her venture into Knockturn Alley. It wasn't her first time into the dank and unlit alley that proper, upright magical persons stayed away from or feared to tread.

Leta was not fearful of anything, and unlike her fraternal cousin, Rupert, she lived to push boundaries. If the twentieth century was going to be anything like it promised it would be, then outdated society standards of Queen Victoria and her ilk had to be expanded, or even _broken completely_.

Newt had even accused her of being a suffragist—not in any condescending sense, Newt was never condescending to anyone, least of all her—which, after some thought, Leta had to agree with. She _was_ a suffragist, but unlike her sainted mother her activist roles did not stop at gender. She continued being a vocal supporter of rights for magical creature, as well. Of course, these rights were not to include the right to vote (that would be rather silly) but for fairer breeding and handling laws.

It was something both young teenagers believed in, and thus, how Newt had gotten his silly (and yes, _demeaning)_ moniker of "Newton Suffragette" from his older brother, Theseus. A moniker that had resulted in several fights, both verbal and physical, between the Scamander brothers. Leta only wished that with the start of the new year and term, and with the shadow of Theseus's NEWTs looming, that they had seen the last of their constant quarrels. After all, it really limited her time handling creatures when her assigned partner was indisposed in the hospital ward.

Thankfully, this was not her first, second, or even third visit into Knockturn Alley, for if it were she surely would have missed the small and overly cluttered shop that was her destination due to the heavy fog.

The tiny tingle of the misshapen, tarnished bell above the door notified Mister Niles, an old and weathered hag-like wizard, that some unfortunate soul had entered his dark, dust-ridden domain.

When Leta was greeted with a harsh cackle-turned-cough she didn't flinch or immediately flee back towards the door; she knew that this was Niles' usual greeting for everyone that dared crossed his threshold.

"You again?"

Leta smirked. "I haven't been here since August. I take it business hasn't improved?"

Niles issued another cackle-cough. "I'm not here for the glamor of private commerce, young lady, but for the pleasure of torment _and_ trade."

Leta's smirk brightened into a sly grin. "Torment from curios? Surely not. They are but curious paperweights or high tea conversation starters."

"Anything infused with Dark enchantments and magic do hold dangerous—" he paused, his sharp green eyes watching as Leta picked up an empty snow globe, clearly mesmerized, before he summoned it away from her. "—traits."

"Traits?" Her eyebrows rose. "Are you implying that these artifacts are somehow alive and share some of our characteristics?"

"They are imbued with whatever traits their previous or first owners possessed upon the time of their bewitching." Niles' arthritis-crippled hand held the snow globe high in front of him. "This one here is particularly cruel. It shows you the location of your 'heart's desire' but after its revelation you are left always uncertain and jealous of your paramour; its toxicity of doubt is its trait."

Leta came closer to the counter and the snowglobe. Her fingers itched to shake the globe and see what it would show her. She did not 'desire' anyone romantically per-se (Theseus did not count as she was sure that her sudden attraction to her friend's surprisingly powerful brother was only a fleeting fancy), but the possibility that it would show her the location of her familiar—her _real_ heart's desire—was so enticing.

Niles smirked. "So even now, with one so young, it calls. Fascinating." He sent it back to its place upon the shelf, where it stood nestled between two dull and heavily tarnished brass bookends depicting a goblin and his stolen treasure. "Now, what _curiosity_ do you seek today?"

"A gift." Leta reluctantly returned her attention from the snow globe to Niles. "For my close friend, Newt."

"One of my Dark Curios?" He chuckled. "This isn't one of those Diagon Alley gift shops," he stopped as his pocket watched chimed five o'clock, "but if you leave now, you get nothing for your _friend_. Wait here."

Leta offered a genuine smile of gratitude as the elderly wizard shuffled into the back room to fetch her some curio he deemed safe.

Covertly glancing behind her to the snow globe, she decided the risk was well worth it and quickly went to it.

It seemed heavier than it was before. More substantial. More _real_. Shaking it vigorously until every particle of fake snow danced in the confined whirlpool sheathed inside the crystal dome she grasped tightly to her, fervently peering into its hidden depths.

 _Nothing_.

Disappointment flared through her. She kicked herself for believing Niles about this globe.

Just as she was moving to return it, something in the corner sparkled and caught her eye. Bringing it closer, she could barely make out a small cottage trimmed with garland and an evergreen wreath upon the sturdy old door. She had seen—been to—that cottage before.

A furry animal burst through a pile of snow, its dark fur glistening from the moisture of melted snow, carrying its prey.

Leta's heart skipped. It had worked!

This jarvey—for she recognized it now as it ambled out of the tiny front garden of the snow covered cottage—was her familiar.

Pleased beyond reason she hurriedly returned the snow globe and made it back to the counter before Niles reemerged with a floating parcel following behind him.

"You and your Newt like creatures? Dragons?" Upon Leta's nods he relaxed and brought the parcel down to her. "Seventy-seven Sickles."

Leta frowned but didn't argue or tried to haggle the price to a more reasonable one. She could afford to spend nearly five Galleons on Newt, and even though she had not seen what type of curio Niles had selected she could feel the gentle hum of magic radiate from the plainly wrapped parcel and intrinsically knew it would be perfect.

After all, _Caveat Emptor Curios_ was the best curio driven store in Knockturn Alley, and she knew that Niles did not barter with money. (Bartering with another curio? Sure, he even seemed to thrive on those transactions, but monetary bartering was akin to a vile insult to him.) She had witnessed one poor witch try to haggle and be banished from the shop— _forcefully_. Arthritis had not crippled this Dark wizard's magic like it had his fingers and body, not with his strong affinity towards wandless magic.

* * *

Newt rushed out of the modest room he shared with his brother into the front room by the fireplace. The notification chimes were still alerting that someone was seeking admittance.

It had to be Leta and Mrs Lestrange, who always acted as her daughter's chaperone, coming to wish the Scamander family a Happy Yuletide.

The short letter he had received from Leta that morning had spurred his curiosity and wishful thoughts on to new heights. She was coming over to exchange gifts, nothing too odd there, true, but her cryptic post-script about finally finding " _it_ " and " _knowing her heart_ " had caused him to wonder what she meant. One part—a well hidden portion of his psyche—had immediately concluded that this was it, that Leta had realized that he was a suitable prospective caller. That she would be open to him courting her, and maybe one day after their graduation, she would also be acceptable to him pledging his troth to her.

After all, they were a perfect match—their twin wands proved as much.

Sure enough, through the haze of soot stood Leta and her aristocratic yet petite mother.

Mrs Scamander greeted her guests warmly and exchanged the customary niceties with Mrs Lestrange as their children went into the foyer to chat and, no doubt, shyly flirt. (She had caught her Newton wistfully pinning and catering to Leta too many times for it not to be anything but attraction, though as she had feared, it was solely Newt who craved more than friendship out of their relationship.)

"Merry Christmas!" Leta declared joyfully as she handed over her gift.

"It's lovely." Newt smiled as he untied the twine, stopping himself before lifting the lid. He had forgotten his present for her!

"Won't be but a moment." He dashed to his room. How had he forgotten to bring her gift? A proper boyfriend would _never_ do that.

Leta chuckled. It was so like Newt to forget her gift.

The front door opened, bringing in a cold chill into the small foyer and with it Theseus, dusted with snow from his hat to his boots and an equally snow-encrusted tree. It was like seeing a living, illustrated Christmas card.

"Lestrange," he grunted as he maneuvered the tree into a waiting stand by the window. "You staying for supper?"

Leta had been about to say yes when Newt answered with a strong " **NO!"**

"We're just exchanging gifts and chatting for awhile." He further explained as he handed Leta a small box tied with a silver colored bow.

Leta frowned but stayed silent. She had seen too many 'brotherly' feuds between the two Hufflepuffs to know that it was better not to take any sides.

So, instead she focused on opening her gift: removing the ribbon, opening the box, and moving tissue paper aside to reveal a finely carved music box compete with a dancing, twirling dragon.

It was ideal. _Perfect_.

"Now that was an awfully big threat, Newton."

Leta looked up, startled. She had momentarily forgotten about the tense air between Newt and his brother.

"Not a threat but a promise."

Leta lowered her gift. She had clearly missed something important.

The air around them crackled and hissed with suppressed magic and rage.

"Theseus do come in and say hello to our guest." Mrs Scamander politely called from the other room. Her voice working as a magical balm quickly defusing the situation. "We can decorate the tree later."

Leta watched as Theseus left the foyer and into the front room. He was a powerful wizard but unlike his brother he was very emotionally driven.

She really needed to rid herself of her silly attraction to Theseus and sooner rather than later.

Turning back to Newt she saw that he had opened his gift and whatever was inside had captivated him. Taking a step closer she finally saw what held him bewitched. Nestled betwixt some newsprint was a family of dragons carefully folded and molded into shape but unlike the oriental art form that favored paper these were all forged, delicate porcelain.

"Leta," Newt whispered reverently as he gingerly picked one up and held it. The reflecting candlelight that danced upon it cast a yellow-orange-ish hue that strongly reminded them both of fire. "I—I," he took a breath and pressed on, "it's just what I wanted—even though I didn't know it until now." His eyes searched hers, "Thank you."

"I got them due to our cores. Since our wands come from the same dragon's heart and all." She lied but smiled. A warm, genuine one that he readily returned.

"So, what is this bit about finding something?" He asked, after they had placed his—their?—folded dragons upon an empty shelf over the door, both youths pleased that the dragons were overseeing the room and by extension the Scamander house.

"I found my familiar," she excitedly whispered, not wanting her mother to overhear her. Another lecture on the unbecoming and unladylike fascination of creatures was something she did not want to be forced to endure again.

" _Oh_." Newt's disappointment flickered across his eyes before he quickly squashed it before he donned his usual carefree demeanor like a cloak.

"Newt—"

"What type of creature is your familiar? I bet it's something crafty like a niffler."

"No, but close."

"Close?"

"A jarvey."

Newt stared at Leta.

"I understand that they are not the most desirable creatures but I'm sure my familiar will act with restraint. If not, I'll make sure it does with magical encouragement." Leta recited her rehearsed reasoning. She hoped that Newt missed her crossing her fingers behind her back. She always wanted a familiar and now she knew _what_ creature it was, even though she still hadn't discovered _exactly_ _where_ it was—she would soon.

Newt frowned and shook his head. He had a strong presage about this jarvey business but... if it was what Leta _truly_ _wanted_ then he would help her.

For her, for his Leta, he would even take up Dante's mantle and journey through whatever horrors and difficulties the afterlife boasted to get to her side and be with her forever. Like Dante had for his Beatrice.

Although, he could not shake the feeling that they had just entered through the gates, past its famous inscription, and was about to cross Acheron without the Roman poet as a guide.

 _Fini_

* * *

 **Author's Note 2:** Major thanks to my awesome teammates Sarah and Oni for their awesome beta work.


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